Jeff, the Purple Wiggle, is said to represent death, or sleep. He is depicted as constantly drifting off to sleep at odd moments, only to be brought back to the waking world by the exhortations of the other Wiggles. Thus, Jeff is often interpreted in modern texts as being a representation of death and rebirth, or reincarnation - he dies and is reborn into the world, wide eyed and ready to continue playing theaccordion, another symbol of death(as in most civilised cultures, serial accordion playing is punishable by beheading).

Some have attempted to make a link between the Purple Wiggle and the Antichrist, but despite the colouring their appearance and typical behaviour seem to be quite different(for example, the Purple Wiggle has never been known to devour the souls of accountants).

Howdy Neighbor

Won't you be my friend?

The Gap

There is a gap
    a vast chasm
        of indeterminable distance
            between the things I want                                          and the things I can have
                It makes me wonder
                    How far is the reach
                       Can I bridge the gap?
                           That which resides on the far side              is all I yearn for these days
                                Its just beyond my reach
                                     Just outside my grasp
                                         And I can’t help but think
                                             If I can just stretch a little farther  what I want will be mine
                                                  But the distance is too far
                                                       Its as though my fingers
                                                          Brush the other side
But I can never make the leap
           
There is a gap
      a vast chasm
            of indeterminable distance
                between you                                                                          and I
                    and its as though my fingers
                             brush against yours but
                                     cannot seem to take hold
So I never take the leap


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A poem about how getting what we want is difficult and communicating what we want is just as hard. I was a bit down one day. Enjoy!
-Cara

First Post of March

     Before I get sick, I usually get this weird/off vibration around my diaphragm. I compare it in my head to a slightly warped image of Halloween/fall/weirdness (or maybe something else entirely, as those thoughts usually coincide for me with more ethereal feelings). I had that feeling a few days ago when I was getting up off of my couch. Coupled with that was a pounding sensation in my head that wouldn't go away with any amount of fluids. Today, I have one of my perennial sniffly noses, complete with a never-ending half sneeze. I've wanted to scream at the top of my lungs the entire day.
     I'm beginning to notice that when I'm sick, my mind takes on a sharper way of thinking. On the ACT Plan today, I do believe I did better than on my previous prep test. I predicted an equation for Honors Physics that we wouldn't be using until today. I've been doing other math problems on the side for a couple days now as well. But when it comes to non-academic thoughts, I've been exceedingly more scattered. I suppose I have a heightened potential to apply myself, but when I'm not doing that, my mind slips into a pink, milky haze. That sort of parallels being sick in general: Your body's normal symbiosis becomes fractured into performing certain things (such as fighting off viruses) with a greater effort, while other activities (muscle-moving, breathing, etc) are lowered in priority.
     I have to go to my last sporting event for work today (manning the gate at a Junior High wrestling game). I'll be receiving my paycheck, which will more than likely include today's work on it. However, because of my sickness, I really shouldn't be going. BUT, if I don't go, they'll have to redo the paycheck, and I won't get my money until a later date. That would mean that the vinyl/CDs I want to buy won't be buyable immediately. So, despite my recently heightened concern for my health, I must force myself to rough it out until the end of the game. I can always take tomorrow off from school!

Metaphor/ Rambling on the American Frontier

     The American frontier, along with all of the "back to the roots" movements that relate to it, is perfection. Perfection, of course, in the sense that there is just the right amount of imperfection. It is the culmination of all the right thoughts taken from Western ideals mashed onto an untamed landscape with limitless potential. Being able to settle your own land in the middle of nowhere and start a home on it from nothing is something that doesn't happen that much these days. There's so much work that's put into it: Building a house, growing food, defending the property, trading with other settlers. It requires an immense amount of work, but that's what makes it worth living. By founding a home on the American frontier, you're devoting your entire existence to a way of living.
     What adds infinitely more to that way of life is when it's coupled with the "greatest hits" of modern technology. Having a limited amount of electricity wired to your house, perhaps just enough to supply entertainment (video games, electric instruments, etc.) and lighting, could be accomplished with a solar/wind power combination. Heating could be installed geothermal-ly, and refrigeration could be possible with cellars. At the absolute most, a phone line/fiber optic cable could be hooked in for communications purposes. A car may be needed for commuting to the nearest town to make enough money for taxes and entertainment, and there are perfectly capable cars that can be bought without the worry of constant gas-guzzling. What this boils down to in the end is living an existence that combines old, natural living with the "essentials" of the current age.

Metaphor (And favorite food)

My favorite food are fruits and veggies. They are very satisfying in taste, but don't leave a lot to the stomach. I guess you could say they are almost addicting.

Ninjas Kittens

Kittens are ninjas, always sneaking around,

stalking my feet and not making a sound,

why are kittens so adorable,

for they wear disguises to kill the vulnerable.

Now the poem is ending and I must give it a rest,

but watch at your feet or you will be a bloody mess.